The Pincushion Cake
by Ahmerst
Summary: Written as a birthday gift. A short drabble with America surprising Russia on his birthday. All nice and fluffy, too. Rus/Ame


Ivan sighed as he shouldered his way into his hotel room. Today was supposed to be a special day, a day filled with confetti, cakes, and presents. It was his birthday, not that he'd even been allowed to enjoy it. He'd spent the majority of it running back and forth from boardroom to boardroom, anxiously stealing peeks at his acquaintances to see if any of them realised the significance of the date, but no matter how many eyes he met, none of them displayed any kind of acknowledgment and congratulations.

Sure he could have been a little more obvious, actually mentioned that the day was soon coming, but he felt that would be a little too pompous. He wanted others to simply remember the date on their own, to show that they cared enough to recall at least that tidbit of information. But they had all been caught up in Christmas celebrations the day previous, using the next day as an excuse to slouch back against their chairs with heavy stomachs and contented smiles. Ivan frowned to himself. They couldn't even be bothered to celebrate it on the right day.

"Are you just going to stand around all night or do you plan to turn on a light, big guy?"

Ivan started in the darkness. Even without being able to see much, he knew without a doubt the voice belonged to Alfred. No other person had such sweet, dulcet tones that made his blood leap and heart stammer. His hand shot out of its own accord and flicked the light switch on, his other hand slackening with surprise, dropping his suitcase to the floor with a dull _thunk_.

Pale fluorescent bulbs flickered to life, revealing a cramped space overpopulated with chairs that congregated around a writing desk. A pink cardboard box topped the scene, which Ivan figured must have been some sort of gift from the hotel. A Queen-sized bed consumed most of the room, swallowing up the ugly pattern of the carpet that lined the floor. The duvet was adorned by brazen flowers, all of them fiercely bright and a little sickening. The sheets were rumpled and mussed, as though someone had laid on them recently. Ivan was sure they'd been crisp and flat since last he was in the room.

A restrained chuckle floated through the air, and Ivan cast about, looking to find Alfred. Dark shoes peeked from beneath a long curtain which hid a human-shaped lump. Ivan crept with silent steps towards it, reaching in one deft movement to rip the curtain away, a smile pulling at his lips as soon as he saw Alfred appear.

"You found me," Alfred chirped happily, stepping forward to wrap his arms around Ivan in a loving hug. "And happy birthday to you," he was quick to add.

"Happy birthday to me indeed," Ivan returned, slightly bewildered to find that Alfred had snuck into his room. "I do not wish to be rude, but how did you get in here?"

"I risked life and limb, big guy. You should have seen me. I was like one of those spies from the movies, a black cat-suit and a whole pulley system rigged up. I even had to dodge some of those red lasers to get in."

"You bribed someone to let you in, then?" Ivan asked with a wink, patting Alfred fondly on the head before returning his embrace.

"Well, yes, but my first story is much more exciting." Alfred planted a fleeting kiss at the corner of Ivan's lips, lingering for a moment as he let out a contented breath. "Speaking of exciting things, I brought you a cake."

Ivan chuckled, his chest rumbling with a lively purr. Alfred would find cake exciting, of all things. That would also explain the pink box. He ran his hand once more through Alfred's hair before letting go, enjoying how smooth golden locks slipped through his fingers like strands of silk.

"I wasn't sure what flavor you liked, which is kind of strange considering how long we've known each other and all that. I mean, don't you think that's strange too?"

Ivan made a soft hushing noise as he followed Alfred to the desk. Alfred always tended to get wordy and repetitive when worried, and the flavor of cake was nothing to get worked up about. "I'm sure I will love whatever you have chosen. You know me so well that you hardly need ask me what I'd like," Ivan assured in a honeyed tone, stroking Alfred's in an encouraging manner.

"Right," Alfred agreed, the tension vanishing from his words at Ivan's kindness. "It will be delicious, and also chocolate." He flipped the lid of the box open to reveal a dark, cylindrical cake with frosted yellow petals dotting its surface. 'Happy Birthday Ivan' was written in white, though the letters were uneven and slanted, Ivan's name barely legible as it was forced into a small area while the word 'Happy' was huge and over the top. Candles lanced through every spot of available space like so many needles piercing a pincushion.

It was very amateur, clearly done by Alfred himself, and Ivan couldn't have loved it more. Even if there was a gouge in the frosting where Alfred had obviously tried to cop a taste. A fiercely grateful sensation welled in Ivan's chest at the sight, and he turned to Alfred and took him again in his arms, realising only when Alfred made a startled squeak that he had been in the process of singing to Ivan.

Alfred made a quick recovery and continued on. "─Happy birthday, dear Ivan, happy birthday to you!" And with that he set to lighting the candles, setting one aflame and using it on its brothers in a patient process.

Ivan laughed in appreciation after the lighting ceremony was finished and pressed his lips to Alfred's, which were petal-soft and warm. The sensation was new and familiar all at once, something he'd done a million times before but never tired of. It sent spasms of comforting heat though his body as he clutched Alfred close to him.

Alfred was soft and pliant beneath his touch, all enthusiastic delight and eager affection. Ivan reveled in it, his hands gripping at Alfred, gliding along the weathered leather of his bomber jacket, sneaking beneath his top to play against smooth skin, fingers tracing the small inward curve of Alfred's back.

"I take it you're happy to see me, eh?" Alfred questioned playfully as he broke their kiss, his lips enticingly pink and plump as he smiled sweetly. "And not to be a party pooper, but if you don't blow out those candles soon you're going to have a wax cake."

Ivan blinked owlishly, having forgotten the cake in its entirety. He always forgot a lot of things whenever he was kissing Alfred, and was quite sure that if it were possible, he'd even forget how to breathe at those beautiful moments when all he knew was the warmth and loveliness that was Alfred.

"Ah, yes, the candles." He turned to face the cake, the birthday greeting shimmering as the candles flickered.

"Be sure to make a wish, too. But don't say it out loud." Alfred emphasized the remark with a serious shake of his head. "You know the drill, if you tell anyone it won't come true."

And so Ivan leaned in close to the many burning flames and wiped them out with a single breath. He made a wish before he did so, but it contained no words, instead being composed of complex wants and desires, thoughts and feelings, all of them woven together. He allowed them to escape his mind as he lazily watched the coils of smoke that rose before him, convinced that they'd come barreling back at him like a well-thrown boomerang sooner or later.

"Alright," Alfred announced gleefully, "birthday boy gets the first piece, of course."

"Of course," Ivan murmured back, his mind already straying from the cake, resting instead upon Alfred, how he smelled (like sweet grass and daisies), his presence (overwhelming and welcome all at once), and how perfect he was in all his beautiful flaws (too trusting and overly affectionate).

Before Ivan knew it, his arms were snaking around Alfred's waist and pulling him close, nuzzling against the bronzed flesh of Alfred's neck as he hummed with contentment. Ivan sighed happily as he closed his eyes, drinking in the chime-like laughter than rang from Alfred's throat. If every birthday was to be like this one, he would never need to wish again.

* * *

A/N:

-This is a gift for devotedtodreams, since her birthday is coming up!

-As always, if you point out any typos are problems I will love you forever.

-I don't know why Ivan can't keep his hands off Alfred for more than five minutes. He just can't.


End file.
